


the empty and the after

by starsorts



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon, St. Petersburg days, even makkachin - Freeform, no dog death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 15:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15997838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsorts/pseuds/starsorts
Summary: "Victor closes his eyes and tries to remember the apartment before Yuuri, before Makkachin.  Stainless steel appliances so new he could see his own reflection.  Polished hardwood floors that seemed to go on forever like an empty ice rink.  And then: him, curled against his bathroom cabinet with bruised, bloody feet.  Limping to the bedroom with a roll of bandages and a gnawing hollowness.  Each little noise swelling and fading, struggling to fill the empty space."Victor fixates on the small things – an empty blue suitcase, Makkachin losing fur – and wonders about the bigger picture.  They adopt a puppy.Happy ending (through better communication)!





	the empty and the after

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Victor and Yuuri adopt a dog and introduce her to Makkachin
> 
> For @hauntedamusementpark on Tumblr for the Victuuri Summer Loving Gift Exchange. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> _I do not own Yuri!!! on Ice._

It starts with fur.

Brown, greying fur, little tufts of it scattered across the couch cushions and the living room rug again, even though Victor picked off some clumps yesterday and vacuumed it for good measure. In the grey morning light, the apartment is all silent sharp corners and empty shadows, and Victor works quickly to clean the sofa, with practiced motions of the lint brush.

“Morning,” Yuuri says a while later as he appears at the edge of the living room. Nearly finished, Victor’s hands tighten around the brush handle inadvertently at the sudden noise. But Yuuri’s eyes are sleepy, familiar, and his words fill up the space. Victor lets his shoulders relax. “Everything okay?” Yuuri asks.

“Yeah,” Victor smiles and stands. He sneaks a glance across the room. Makkachin is curled up in her bed, head resting on her favorite stuffed rabbit toy the way she has since she was a puppy, and there’s a new tightening in his throat that he’s not ready to acknowledge. Instead, he tries to smile and quietly wishes for more time. “Everything’s fine.”

* * *

Yuuri’s blue suitcase lies open and empty at the foot of the bed, a permanent gaping chasm.

“You could put your suitcase in the closet if you want,” Victor had offered, a few weeks after Yuuri flew in to St. Petersburg. They’d been lying at the foot of the bed on one of their rare rest days, Yuuri playing a game on his phone and Victor planning out meals for the next week.

“We’re flying out to Europeans soon,” Yuuri had said with a brief smile. “And then Four Continents.” And then Worlds came and passed and the suitcase remained.

Deep down, he knows it’s silly, knows that Yuuri has already opened and unpacked all the cardboard boxes he had shipped over from Hasetsu. Knows that Yuuri is here and his.

But some mornings, he stumbles to the bedroom door on his way to the bathroom, eyes blurry with sleep, and sees the suitcase exactly as it’s been for the past few months. Unmoving, unchanging. A black hole threatening to swallow whole the all the warmth he’s been lent. Sometimes he looks back at Yuuri, still fast asleep with a fistful of bedsheets, and wonders how long he gets to have this.

* * *

Sometimes, Victor closes his eyes and tries to remember the apartment before Yuuri, before Makkachin. Stainless steel appliances so new he could see his own reflection. Polished hardwood floors that seemed to go on forever like an empty ice rink. And then: him, curled against his bathroom cabinet with bruised, bloody feet. Limping to the bedroom with a roll of bandages and a gnawing hollowness. Each little noise swelling and fading, struggling to fill the empty space.

His eyes snap open and the wild thump of his heart echoes in his ears. It’s like being thrown over the edge without footholds, nothing but air below. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

* * *

A few days later, Yuuri returns early from walking Makkachin. It’s nothing new, but he still Victor pauses at the sight of them – Makkachin in her soft sweetness and Yuuri bundled warmly against the early evening chill. How could anyone be so lucky? After closing the door, Yuuri kneels and gently unclips her leash before letting her wander off in search of dinner.

“She’s tired,” Yuuri says as he hangs his coat on the rack, but that’s not the whole of it. They both know it. “But she made a new friend. There was this fluffy samoyed on the way back; it was like seeing her with a polar bear.”

Victor smiles at the image as he follows Yuuri back to the bedroom. Next to the suitcase at the foot of the bed, Yuuri changes into one of Victor’s old t-shirts and a pair of faded pajama pants. “It’s good that she wants to be with other dogs,” Victor says. “If she didn’t…”

“Right.” The quiet that follows is interrupted only by Makkachin lapping water out of her bowl back in the living room. They don’t need to say it – the knowledge sits stagnant and swollen between them. Victor wonders if it’s different this time for Yuuri, with Makkachin. After all, Yuuri never had the privilege of seeing Vicchan through old age. Perhaps it’s uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s too much. “Makka’s such a good dog,” Yuuri says finally. “Maybe we could…”

“Hm?”

“We could find her a friend,” Yuuri says.

“You mean – ”

“And it’s your apartment, so it’s okay if it’s not a good idea.” Victor tries not to wince at the word “your”. “But maybe having another dog around – ” Yuuri wants to get a dog with him?

It’s a couple seconds before he remembers that he hasn’t answered yet. “I – no, yes – of course,” he says. “Of course we should.”

“We always took her to Ice Castle with us,” Yuuri says. “It can’t be easy being left alone at home all the time.”

“No,” Victor says and he takes Yuuri’s hands in his. “Of course not.”

* * *

They arrive at the animal shelter at the edge of the city mid-morning the next day, just as it opens. The adoption assistant opens the door that leads to the collection of dog pens and waits by the entrance so they can go ahead. Yuuri squeezes his hand as they walk in and he knows what Yuuri’s suggesting: adopt all the dogs. “Someday,” Victor says with an easy smile.

There’s an Australian shepherd with a shiny coat, a few husky mixes, and an enormous brown and white dog and Victor wonders briefly if they’d be able to fit him through the door. The farthest pen holds a small brown poodle, a tiny ball of fluff with gentle, wide eyes. “Victor,” Yuuri says with a sharp breath. “She’s perfect.”

The moment the adoption assistant unlocks the pen, the poodle tumbles toward them and launches herself into Yuuri’s lap. Victor sees his eyes, soft with familiarity, like the first night in Hasetsu when Yuuri wove his fingers gently through Makkachin’s fur and kissed the top of her head. He wonders if it’s like meeting Vicchan all over again.

“Lena?” Yuuri asks haltingly, pointing to the Cyrillic sign fastened to the front of the pen. Victor nods and wraps his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. Tentatively, Lena crawls into his lap.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe this is one of those moments that marks the before and the after. As soon as Lena curls up and starts to doze off, it’s impossible to remember anything else.

After filling out the paperwork and paying the adoption fee, they leave hand-in-hand, with Lena securely in her carrier and a new lavender dog bed tucked under Yuuri’s arm. Out in the parking lot, Yuuri squeezes his hand tightly and his eyes shine like clear polished amber in the sunlight. Victor rests his hand on Yuuri’s cheek and kisses his forehead, that familiar warmth spreading through his chest before he twines their hands together again.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, Yuuri in one hand and Lena’s carrier in the other. The mid-day sunlight shines warmly against the three of them. No matter what happens, even if Yuuri realizes he’s unhappy in Russia with him, he has this moment. “I’m so lucky.”

* * *

The thing about love is that he can’t remember what it was ever like before. There’s the memory of Makka as a puppy – all soft curls and clumsy paws as she crawled across his lap. The champagne-gilded night when he first danced with Yuuri.

The before is hazy, blurred – a full blue suitcase, a coat rack without a leash. An expanse of sea fog across the ocean. But now his love has somehow expanded past his physical body. Makkachin, Yuuri, Lena, and all of them together – a family.

The after is too clear and vast to understand.

* * *

They hear Makkachin before they unlock the door. Her footfalls come soft and quick, and she tries to wedge her nose under the door with a _whuff_. Victor catches her in his arms as soon as they open the door, holds her close to him and kisses her forehead. She’s more energetic than she’s been in months. He knows she can smell Lena on both of them.

“Ready?” Yuuri asks as he sets down the carrier.

“Yeah."  Makkachin wiggles out of his grasp and spins around a few times, paws slipping on the shiny hardwood floor. Slowly, Yuuri unlocks the carrier and pulls Lena into his arms like a baby.

Makkachin pads over and sniffs Yuuri, then the tiny puppy he’s holding. “Here she is, Makka,” Yuuri says, lowering Lena to the ground where she scrambles for footing. “This is your new sister. ” Makkachin _boofs_ like she understands and sniffs her again. “And we’re your family,” he says to Lena.

“We’re your family,” Victor repeats, to Lena, to Makkachin, to Yuuri. Lena scuttles around Makkachin, who lifts her right paw, then her left, so the puppy doesn’t knock into her in excitement. Victor clutches blindly for Yuuri’s hand and tries to swallow down the growing lump in the back of his throat.

“Then there’s the issue of where to put Lena’s bed,” Yuuri says, once the dogs are playing. “Makkachin already sleeps at the foot of ours, so maybe…” He grabs the new lavender bed and walks toward the bedroom, leaving Victor to follow.

Inside the room, it’s like something out of a dream: Yuuri’s kneeling on the floor and zipping up his blue suitcase. The black hole, the great chasm. It's been pushed to the side and replaced with Lena’s new bed. “You don’t have to move it if you don’t want to,” Victor says before he can stop himself.

Yuuri pauses mid-zip. “What do you mean?”

“If it’s too…” Victor tries to find the right word. “If it’s too much,” he says and hopes Yuuri will understand. Instead, Yuuri just tilts his head.

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to push you to make this your home if you’re not ready for that,” he says. “If it’s too much, or too soon. I always want you here, but if you’re unhappy – ”

“Victor,” Yuuri says. “We just got a dog together.”

“I know but – ”

“You thought I – ” Yuuri begins, but softens as he looks up at him. “Oh.”

Everything, too much, comes spilling out faster than he can think. Victor’s face is wet with tears, eyes puffy and sore. “I just thought – ” and after all these months of fixating on this one thing, why don’t the words come out more beautifully? “I just thought the suitcase was your way of telling me you were unsure. I thought maybe you didn’t want Russia, or me, or maybe this was temporary to you and by leaving it out – ”

“Why didn’t you ask?”

“But I did,” he says. “Before Europeans. But I didn’t want to push you, because the only thing worse than you leaving is you staying because you think you have to.” Now Yuuri’s eyes are rimmed red, tears shimmering and threatening to spill over. “Staying out of obligation is even more…empty,” he says.

“But we got a dog. We’ve been living together. Of course I want you, as long as you’ll have me.”

“I know,” Victor says. “At least, I think I do. But I can’t remember what it was like before you and before Makkachin. And sometimes I wonder if I only get you for a little while.  And when little things like this stack up – ”

Yuuri sniffs through his own tears. “I'm scared of that too."  The silence as they hold each other settles comfortably.  "But I love you.  As long as we have the choice, you have me as long as you want, and I hope – I hope that I can have you too.”  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the suitcase," Victor says.  And there's so much more to say, but at least something is out and tangible.

"I'm sorry too," Yuuri says.  "All those months I made you feel nervous."

"You didn't mean to," Victor says and pulls him against his chest.  All he can feel is Yuuri’s skin and Yuuri’s scent, his warmth and his heartbeat. Lena bounds in a few minutes later, Makkachin at her side.

“This is ours, right? Somehow?” Yuuri asks quietly and the words inflate like a balloon to fill the space.  They’ll talk more later, he knows, make sure they understand each other completely. But right now, Victor can only nod and hug him tighter.

All of it, Makkachin and Lena and Yuuri’s love – it’s too vast. Too much. Too perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> why can't I write anything without angst?? anyway:
> 
> -They'll be okay. They always will.
> 
> -Yuuri has anxiety, but I think Victor does too, even if not in the same way. Even in such a committed and loving relationship, it's still easy to wonder when the other shoe will drop – when they'll get tired of you, or think you're too much – and the little things start to get in your head. As Makkachin gets older, too, I wondered what Victor's fear of losing his life/loves would look like.
> 
> -They'll be okay!! And they'll adopt many other dogs and Makkachin will never pass away because those buns made her immortal – you heard it here, it's canon.
> 
> If you want more angsty/fluffy Victuuri content, come yell/cry with me on Tumblr: @starsorts. Thanks for reading!


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